What Dreams May Come?
by Katia Nox
Summary: Sometimes dreams are salvation.
1. Default Chapter

I do not own Labyrinth in any way... I wish Jareth would give me my dreams and let me own him. :)

What Dreams May Come

Chapter 1

The sun was just setting as Sarah Williams pulled her truck into the driveway, tapping the garage door remote clipped to the visor above her head. Her head swayed in time with the song playing on the radio as she sang along, doing a female's rendition

"Dream walkin', pillow talkin', he's callin' my name again  
Day's breakin' I ain't wakin' up, I'm sleepin' in,  
I'm on a roll now, gotta know how this dream ends."

She turned off the truck as the last of the song faded out, popping the bed liner lid with the inside switch. She turned off the lights and tapped the remote to close the garage with one hand as she opened the door with the other. She went to the back of the truck and pulled out a bag of groceries, her purse and portfolio. Holding the bag of groceries on one knee, she closed the lid and headed toward the door of her small cottage through the thickening darkness of the late October evening.

She paused at the door struggling one handed with her keys, as she flipped them this way and that to disentangle the many key chains that hung together upon the rings. With a muttered curse, she finally freed the key she wanted and opened the door with a click.

Once through the door she dropped everything heavily on the counter and let out a sigh as she kicked off her pumps at the door. Home, finally. As much as she hated to admit with each year that passed she was becoming more of a homebody. She adored the peace that surrounded this cottage, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains. Fortunately, these days, she could and did her work from home, unless she HAD to go to Louisville to see her agent.

There was an otherworldly charm here that allowed her a sense of wonder and gave her a sense of freedom. She could dream here, allow her fantasies to come to life. It gave her inspiration, and kept her from losing her child's heart. This place freed her somehow and brought her work to life.

She unbuttoned her jacket as she moved into the room, flipping on the light over the cook top as she passed it. It was enough light to see by. She threw the jacket onto the back of a chair a few feet away. Moving back to the bag of groceries she quickly emptied it into the refrigerator and pulled out a cold wine cooler.

Picking up her portfolio she went to the living room and literally dropped into a chair, spilling some of the cooler on the upholstery. The edges of her lips quirked up into a mischievous grin, alcohol abuse.

"Ah me girlie, with a last name of Williams thet's gotta be a sin."

She leaned her head back as she dropped the portfolio into her lap and rubbed her aching neck muscles. As much as she loved kids, the book signings could be draining. But it was their enthusiasm, their belief, the shining innocence in their eyes that gave her energy. To bring even one of them closer to the real truths of the world: that good should always triumph evil, that love should always be true, that dreams are worth fighting for, made her feel as close to complete as she'd ever get.

She straightened again, and looked down at the portfolio in her lap. She had to look them over tonight, these final proofs for her latest book, "Sir Didymus Saves the Day". She pulled the sheets out of the case with a gentle care. As she flipped through the pages, she thought of her friends Underground.

As she'd grown older, she'd slowly lost the ability to call them to her. The onset of adulthood and responsibility had slowly taken them from her. Karen had talked her father into kicking her out soon after her 16th birthday. She'd taken a job and gotten a studio apartment. She quit school and started working full time just to pay her bills. The child she'd fought so very hard to save, no longer knew she existed. She took the test for her GED the same day that her classmates graduated from high school.

As the responsibilities piled up, her ability to talk to her friends Underground dwindled. But, she never lost her ability to dream. In fact, it was her dreams that got her where she was today, that and her Grandmother's love.

"Granny" Williams had been one hell of a lady. She'd been known by everyone in this sleepy Eastern Kentucky town. She had been something of a mountain herb witch. People were as likely to come and see her with a sick child as they were a doctor. She'd been a feisty old lady. She had been brutally honest; her temper could be kindled and burned out in the space of a minute.

When she'd found out Sarah had been kicked out and was living on her own, she'd come to Connecticut and brought her here. She, who had never set foot outside Pike County, Kentucky, got in her truck and drove to Connecticut only to have a fight on her hands the moment she arrived. Sarah had argued that she was fine. The woman had just looked at her, a strange light in her eyes. "No arguin' Sarah, you're comin' home with me." The argument had ended. When Granny Williams made up her mind, you were done for.

When she died, just over a year ago, she'd left everything she owned to Sarah. This cottage, a hundred acres of prime timberland, and a wide knowledge of folklore and history were passed to Sarah as they had been from her Grandmother's own father. Most people don't know it, but Eastern Kentucky is steeped in beliefs of the Old Country. The belief in the ways of magick and of the Fair folk is almost a racial memory there. It's stirred easily.

While the people may be Christian, they are Christian with an almost pagan attitude on life. There is a deep belief in family, honor, and honesty. But more importantly, at least in Sarah's mind, was their ability to dream, to believe, to not think that all there was ever going to be in this life was another day in the dark coal mines where they made their living.

She'd had had vivid dreams for what now seems like forever. They'd started after the night she'd gone Underground. She could see the destruction she'd caused at her leaving. It seemed the labyrinth itself had heaved and broken. She had been so ashamed. Every night she slept and every night she dreamed of him, watching him as though watching through one of those crystals he used to enhance his magic. The curse the labyrinth, itself, laid upon her as the magicks around it crumbled at Jareth's defeat, to have to see him forever in her dreams but never be able to touch him.

Sarah moved to her work room upstairs. It was a large open loft area with nothing blocking a view to below, scribblings and sketches pinned to the walls, some decorating the floor. The moon outside was rising, its light poured in through the large unobstructed windows of this room. She sat down and began to sketch, sitting the wine cooler on the table beside her. Not Hoggle, or Didymus, not Ludo or the fierys, but Jareth, the Goblin King.

The Sidhe were hard to draw, but satisfying. They had so many subtle features that had to be brought out. A perfect tilt of the head, a wing-like angling of the eyebrows, a certain hardness about the eyes, but yet a mirth deep within that you will miss if you are not watching to see it. Jareth is especially hard to draw, for each action holds a secret, each hard look a heart break. But she knew his face, his hands, the tilt of the head like no other. He was the first thing that she had seen upon falling into dream every night since she was fifteen.

She drew his face, his hair, that strong nose, those cold, mismatched eyes, his hands covered with their black leather gloves. She set a knowing smirk upon his impudent lips. He stood holding a feathered mask in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, watching the dancers at a ball. The longer she drew, the more enraptured she became. When she finally looked up, to view the large clock on the living room wall it read 13:30.

She smiled tiredly at the clock, remembering her decision to have it made. The day in this house was 26 hours long. It was a replica of the one that Jareth had used at the beginning of her 13 hour adventure there, well, twelve really since he'd taken an hour away. It kept her grounded in the world that she wanted to exist within these four walls.

Funny, how twelve hours could change your whole life, your whole being for that matter. It was more than time for bed, she was getting maudlin, and she never wanted her friends in Underground to see her sad. She'd made a point to make sure they only saw her happy, happy to be with them, happy to be in their lives, happy to share her dreams with them.

She moved through her nightly routine, haphazardly. She brushed her teeth as she combed out her hair. She hopped on one foot as she struggled out of her pants and then slid her silk shell over her head. She changed into a pair of knit shorts and a battered flannel shirt that was three sizes too big. She crawled into bed, stretching one last time before she pulled Lancelot into a loose embrace and drifted to slumber to dream.

* * *

The sight that met her when she reached underground was one she was not ready for. The images in her mind's eye were almost more than she could take. She slept fitfully, trying to decide whether to run or stay.

The city around Jareth's castle lay burning. It lit up the sky like nothing she'd seen in Underground before. A riot of monstrous creatures ran the streets, eating anything that stood in their paths. She ran through the castle doors to find Jareth lying on the floor in the throne room, unmoving. A man in black armor was towering over him. She could feel the layers of protection that Jareth had wrapped around himself being stripped away. She could feel his magic being drained from him

"Jareth," she moaned softly, the word drifting to the edges of her room.

The pain was agonizing. She couldn't stand it anymore she had to do something. It felt like the layers of her skin were being peeled away. In a way, it was. The tie, her link to him, forged by the Labyrinth in those last moments, was buried deep beneath these protections. Buried so deeply in fact, that she doubted he was even aware. She could feel him on some level that she had never really understood.

She had not known during her time Underground what a truly complicated man he was. She did not have a chance to gaze at all his different sides, she'd seen only what he wanted her to see. But through her dreams, she'd seen all his sides. She'd even seen him gazing at her through one of his crystals, as she slept. But, that had only happened once. He'd thrown the crystal against the wall after a moment with such wrath that she'd woken up screaming.

She'd been lost to him from the first dream. It happened the same night she'd defeated him, no, not him, his labyrinth. She would never believe that she, a simple mortal girl, could have defeated someone like he had proven himself to be. If he had made a single mistake at all, it had been to force her to choose between her brother and himself. Had he offered to release the boy in return for her staying forever, she'd have never challenged him.

She'd been lost to him to the point that she wanted no one else, and had never made a particular effort to find someone. Sure she'd dated like all teens do. She'd even gotten serious with a couple of those guys. She'd tried to break the Underground's hold upon her. She fought the dreams, she taught herself to get by on sleep with no dreams. For brief amounts of time, she would wake herself just as a dream cycle began.

Not dreaming is dangerous to the human psyche. If done over long periods of time, it can lead to psychosis. She was never able to continue it long enough to cause lasting damage. Always, just as she thought she might have gained her freedom from Underground, it would reassert its grip over her, over her dreams. Whomever the unfortunate man in her life was, would vanish within the week.

Even now at age 21, she went out only when she had to, and came home as soon as possible. Over the time that she wasn't writing or drawing, she was sleeping and watching, learning to control the dreams so that she could in a fashion still visit her friends. She visited them faithfully at least once a week. But normally, she spent her days watching him. Watching, learning….obsessing. The dreams had become her life. She lived in them to the exclusion of eating, of socializing… of living any kind of normal life.

She'd watched his world crumble and his painful rebuilding of it. She'd helped the only way she'd known how. Through her stories, she'd brought a new generation to knowledge of Underground. She'd brought belief, if only through the children her stories touched. Their belief added to the healing of his city, his Labyrinth. While she held a joy in knowing that the children she touched were learning the real values of life as she knew them, she also knew that she was aiding him, even if he never knew the truth. That was the true happiness that she received, knowing that life Underground was flourishing again.

She'd watched…through her dreams. She'd watched as he seemed to get his life back on track. He regained his honor, his pride. He had whole platoons of women to choose from, throwing themselves at him. She watched him bed them and leave them, ripping a whole in her heart each time he kissed them, caressed them, made love to them. What she never understood is why he never kept one of them. There were a few she had thought he could make it with. But he never gave them a chance. He seemed to have some bar that he measured them by and not one ever attained its height.

And now six years later, she lay here in a dream, watching his world crumble again. Everything he gained was falling to ruin. She could not allow it. She had to stop it. She had to stop this monster that was slowly killing him, but she didn't know how. She'd never been able to truly interact in her dreams, at least not physically. She could form a misty version of herself, and talk to the inhabitants of the Labyrinth. But she couldn't touch them or hug them…or save them. There had to be a way…there had to be.

She felt his last protection spell give way and she watched the man in the black armor raise his sword.

"Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Her mind screamed agonizing in the pain she only now felt emanating from him.

She'd watched him too long, loved him too long, even if only from afar to watch him be killed. She reached with all her power and all her strength. She placed her mental hands on his shoulders and with every ounce of strength she had she pulled. She watched as the sword made its cascading arc downward toward his chest and pulled even harder. Just as it touched his chest, Jareth's body vanished.

She had him. "Come on Jareth. Come to me. Don't fight me. I can't lose you here in the space between." She mumbled to herself, still fully locked in her dream. It was as though she'd separated her mind one part moving Jareth, one part holding the dream. As she towed Jareth closer, she watched the knight in Jareth's Castle begin to curse. She was going to have to wake up as soon as Jareth got to Aboveground with her, but she wanted, needed to see what action this creature would take next. She had to be alert to the possibility that he might trace Jareth to her.

Not that she had a clue what she'd do if he did come after her. She'd never had a need to test what she could do while dreaming. And she had no power at all awake. This disbelieving world outside these walls was too much for high magical powers, unless one was purely a creature of magic, as Jareth and all his kind were. Even here, in this superstitious landscape she resided in, there was only enough belief for little magicks. She had no idea of how she was doing what she was doing right now as a matter of fact. All she could do was believe, believe that she could bring him out of the mists and into her home, safe, or at least safer, than he was in Underground.

She woke at the last possible second, as she felt him enter her world. A sharp breeze came crashing around the house, shaking it to the very foundations. She heard him land roughly on her couch.

"Damn!" Why did she have to be so clumsy? She tore out of her bed, grabbing her robe as she ran into the living room, finally succeeding in pulling on her robe as she stopped stunned at the sight before her. She moved to him quickly, but quietly.

She bent over the man that had been so unceremoniously dumped on her couch, gently and carefully laying a hand on his head, He was out cold and running a fever if Fae body temperature was supposed to run like a humans. He was shivering violently.

"Why the hell did I wait so long?" She whispered quietly to herself.

"How were you supposed to know that you could do this? Her reasonable side responded.

"I should have known, that's the point!" The more guilty side retorted.

While second guessing herself mentally, she was moving between the rooms. She pulled out a small first aid kit from beneath the sink and a blanket from the bedroom. She grabbed a couple of dishtowels from the sink, soaking one down with hot water the other with cold. She went back to the living room.

She placed the cold cloth on his forehead, and covered him with the blanket, moving it back and forth when she needed to clean a wound or bandage one. Her couch was soaked in blood, there were puddles of it on the floor. She almost gave into despair. And then, she straightened her shoulders, determined that she could save him, she set to her task.

She looked up only occasionally as she worked on his wounds, checking only to make sure that his chest was still rising and falling. She removed his armor, carefully loosening the straps that held it to his body and then cut his clothes away from his body rather than try to disrobe him and possibly injure him further. She tried to ignore the amount of blood she was washing off of him. She had finally just gone and gotten a bowl of water instead of constantly getting up to rinse the towel she bathed him with. She bandaged his injuries, using butterfly bandages to try to close the worst of his wounds. She worked feverishly, thinking only that she had to work faster and faster to keep his very life from draining out of him.

Finally she could do no more. She looked up at the clock and then out the window to see a new day dawning. She'd been at this for hours. It was only now that she felt she could possibly move him. First she wiped up the blood from the floor. She gently placed him upon the wood floor then she threw the destroyed cushions behind the couch. She pulled out her spare bed and then carefully brought him back up onto it. She went and got another blanket then placed it over him. She went to the kitchen for another bowl and filled it with cold water and placed another cool compress upon his forehead. A wave of exhaustion took her and pulled her down into the darkness even as she heard the bowl she'd been holding crash to the floor as it slipped from her grip. She crumpled to the floor next to where he lay.

* * *

Gregori cursed as Jareth's body vanished from in front of him. How had he summoned the strength for that? It should not have been possible. Daanna was not going to be pleased. His curses strengthened and then silenced as he head the doors of the throne room open behind him. He turned, slowly, removing his helm and bowed, with a grace that should not have possible while encased in armor, to the woman entering the room.

"Daanna." He spoke as he rose from his bow. He watched her walk toward him, her brocade skirts lifted so as to not drag their lace hems in the blood that covered the floor. She walked over the goblin's bodies gracefully as she moved to him. She lowered her eyes and gave him a small flirtatious smile.

"Have you a gift for me, my Lord?" She raised her eyes as she approached him, bringing her hands to rest on the front of his blood drenched armor.

"Have I not given you enough, my Lady? You have an entire kingdom at your disposal." Gregori responded, looking into her deep blue eyes. He reached out to touch her midnight tresses. She might be mortal, but she was lovely, so lovely. He watched as her eyes narrowed and became harder. She was even lovelier when she was angry.

"What of its King, my Lord?" Her voice was harder, a bit louder. "You promised me his heart… still beating in my hands."

It would seem that we underestimated him, Daanna. He vanished away at the last possible moment. I have no idea how. He should have had no strength left to him. I stripped everything away. Yet, somehow, he pulled enough together to do a Vanishing."

Daana's eyes turned cold as he spoke. "You failed me."

Gregori pulled her roughly to him. "I did not fail you. I have given you everything that was his. We have his kingdom, his title. We, together, will rule his lands. Using the power that lies within the Labyrinth, we can gain more strength and more lands. In truth, we have committed an act that was far more successful than killing him would have been and far more satisfying. This place was his strength. It is ours now to command. If he lives, which I doubt, he can only watch as we rule."

"I wanted his heart." Daanna whispered into the vaults of her own mind. "Explain to me what happened." She said forcefully. "Perhaps you missed something. Your attentions were focused solely on the task at hand. Perhaps there is something else."

Gregori looked down at her, passion burning in his eyes. The battle had aroused him as nothing else ever could. "Explanations can wait." He took her lips roughly, even while sliding one hand beneath her legs and pulling her up to him.

She responded to his kiss, the look in his eyes burning through her. He was right. Explanations could wait. She wrapped her fingers into his blonde tresses, reveling in the feel of the blood in his hair. He was walking now. She whispered directions to the royal bed chamber and then took his lips in another kiss that grew more heated with each step they took.

* * *

Jareth awakened as the sun passed its zenith and managed to hit him full in the eyes where he lay. He started as he woke, groaning loudly, his body screaming with pain. He opened his eyes slowly, in case he had watchers. This did not seem to be a prison. Looking around a bit more fully, he took in the room where he lay. There was a large stone fire place to his right with a very large sward hanging above the mantelpiece. The blade radiated the chill of Cold Iron. To his left, there was a small table and chairs and another room beyond. In front of him, a chair and a large book case with two doorways, one to either side. One seemed to lead up to the room he could see above, the other to another room.

He sat up slowly, catching cloth as it fell from his head. He started to move off the bed, swinging his legs out from beneath the blanket covering him. He looked down to place his feet, stopping them just before he slammed into the girl lying on the floor below him and the glass where she lay. "A mortal girl?" His quiet voice seemed to reverberate in the silence of the room.

How had he gotten here? He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness struck him. He had been fighting the Bane Sidhe and his army. But, his goblins had been no match for the other Sidhe's trolls and redcaps. By the time their leader had reached his castle, he had been drained to the core by a battle of magicks instigated by someone beyond the walls. He had fought still, paying no heed to each hit the other made, and then there had been darkness, darkness and pain. He remembered nothing else. Somehow he had gotten here, Aboveground, with her. He let out a quivering sigh as he moved to the other side of the bed and slid off of it, only then realizing that he was covered with Aboveground bandages, and very little else. His clothing had been cut away and he was left with just was required for decency.

Jareth stood for a long moment, willing his legs and body to cooperate as he started to move around the bed to where the girl lay. He looked down at the girl with a cross of confusion and irritation on his face. The confusion for how he had gotten here, the irritation for the fact that she had seen him weak. She must have called upon him to take away a child or herself and the Labyrinth had answered her call, when he had not done so himself. The call may have been what saved his life, but he had hardly crossed to Aboveground as the Goblin King, creature of fear and legend. He tried not to look at her at all as he bent and lifted her from the floor to the bed.

Her weight was slight. A worried thought passed through his mind. 'Was she unwell?" This place where she lived was small and seemed not to have much of value inside of it. The sword on the mantle worried him as well. 'Does she have Fae enemies?' He definitely did not need to be involved in a dispute with another Fae for the girl. If she belonged to another, he could not take her or her child. He reached out to pull her face toward him once he got her settled on the bed, but pulled back quickly when he met something wet and sticky on her face. He reached again, this time touching her chin and tilted her face toward him; a long gash lay across her cheek, the glass from the floor still within it. He gazed at the face his eyes widening. "Sarah."

Without thinking about it, he took the rag that had been in his hand and carefully brushed the glass from her wound, his mind swirling with thoughts about the girl he tended. His hands shook with conflicting emotions. She had grown into a beautiful woman. She had denied him. Was she in trouble, is that why she called him? Why should he help her after the way she destroyed him before? But overriding all of it, why the hell did he care anyway? She was mortal. He was Sidhe. They had played a game. She had won. She went home, leaving him and Underground forever.

He carefully pushed all thought away, and schooled his face into a semblance of calm. He wrapped the blanket around him to preserve some sense of propriety. Then he leaned forward. "Sarah."

He spoke softly, his fingertips hovering just above her face. "Come on, girl, wake up for me. Damn it, Sarah, wake up." His voice took on a clipped edge that could be construed as arrogance…or worry.

His words were met with a fluttering of eyelids. Her eyes opened slowly, showed with sleep and confusion. They widened as they locked on his own mismatched eyes and held. Jareth could feel the fear rolling off of her in waves. "Jareth?" She breathed.

He pulled back, desperately trying to maintain control against the onslaught of her emotions. A quirky thought passed through his mind. 'Well, at least she knows who I am.' "That is Your Majesty, girl. I don't remember ever being on a first name basis with you."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, he could feel her anger rising. "If you can call me Sarah, I will call you Jareth."

A blood vessel in his jaw began to pulse as he clamped his teeth together. Sarah shook her head and held up both hands. "Never mind, it's not worth an argument, your Majesty." A wave of concern passed over him as Sarah looked at him, her eyes softening. "Why are you up? You should be resting. You're still in pain."

Finally, he could take no more. Her emotions were swinging so rapidly. He couldn't keep up and they were overwhelming his senses. He stood, then, and walked away from the bed. He brought himself to his full height, the blanket slipping from his shoulders. He turned back to face her, his eyes cold and shuttered. Sarah could feel a building cold rage within him. 'Oh shit, here it comes.'

"What have you done to me? Why am I here?! Are you aiding my enemies now, ting to overwhelm me with your petty mortal emotions? Then do you plan to kill me with your cold iron weapon?!"

Sarah cringed back, very nearly trying to crawl into the back of the couch, as she watched his infamous temper explode.

He moved faster than she could register and suddenly he was standing there, his hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her face back to force her to look into his eyes, the fear and confusion he felt radiating from her fueling his rage. He pulled harder. "Stop it. NOW! Sarah. No more games. You've been caught."

Sarah whimpered. This was not the Jareth she had faced all those years ago. His rage had been controlled. This was the Jareth she had seen only a few times over the past 6 years. There was no sanity left in his eyes. She could almost feel the blood boiling inside his body. Her fear level went up a notch. He'd kill her, without a doubt.

Jareth felt it as her fear spiked. He had to get control or he'd kill her. Had to get control. He needed answers. But first he needed to clear his head. There was only one way his head would clear, she had to be unconscious, unable to project. He raised his hand to backhand her.

Sarah watches as he raised his hand to bring it across her face. It was coming with tremendous force. With his strength, powered by rage, he'd kill her. That was her last thought as she blacked out, fear overwhelming her entirely.

Jareth blinked as her eyes slid closed before his hand touched her. Her entire body went limp. The emotional onslaught died away as her eyes rolled back and slid shut. His hand dropped her head. He brought to her face, allowing it to harmlessly brush her cheek. 'What the…' He ran his long fingers through his hair as he looked at the girl lying before him. What had just happened? Did she hate him this much? He could feel his chest rising and falling with ragged breathes. None of this made sense.

He turned from her. He had to get out of here. He raised his hand to summon a crystal. He'd go back to Underground and regroup there. He looked at his hand and concentrated. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing. He stared at his hand; the entire world seemed to spin for a moment. Gone, his magic was gone. He turned to face the girl lying on the bed.

"What the hell have you done to me?!" He screamed at her unconscious form.

He, of course, got no answer.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Labyrinth in anyway... I wish Jareth would give me my dreams and let me own him. :)

What Dreams May Come

Chapter 2

Jareth turned away from the bed and retreated, going up to the room that he could see from below. When he stepped onto the landing, he stopped, his eyes captivated as he looked upon the walls. On one wall was a mural; compete in every detail of the view of the Labyinth, the Goblin City and the Castle from the hill above. He looked at it, taking in the painstaking brush strokes his superior vision could still see clearly. The entire scene had been painted with a small brush, each stroke carefully and purposefully placed.

He passed by the door to the balcony outside, moving to the next wall. There were sheets and sheets of paper covered with drawings of Underground. People and places he knew, but she had never met or been to during her time there, all drawn in a surreal amount of detail. Others of the friends she'd made while there. He looked down seeing that the sketches were scattered all over the floor as well. He moved carefully as he walked the length of the wall, growing more and more alarmed as he went along. How could she know these places, these people? It was as if she'd been walking invisible among them.

He turned to the easel that sat next to the window in the end wall. His eyes met his own visage. The scene portrayed him at a ball. He was holding a feathered mask. He wore all black and seemed to be watching a Sidhe woman on the dance floor. He was looking at the woman with unrevealing eyes, but the smirk upon his lips said that he knew something about the woman on the floor that he was holding against her. This party had been two weeks ago. He remembered this moment with clarity. The Lady Ariel had been for sometime trying to undermine him. He had finally learned enough of her secrets to put her in her place.

He went back to the door that led to a balcony. He opened it carefully and stepped out into the chill autumn air. He let himself drop into one of the plastic chairs that sat there. He let everything that he had seen to this point drift in his mind. Gods, he felt so drained, so raw. He had to pull himself together. He rubbed his hand across his face as he propped his legs up on the wooden rails, careful to avoid the wild ivy growing there. What was going on? He was missing something, something important. If she'd been able to see all these things, why had she never made her presence known to him? Did she still hate him so much?

He looked around him. Though he never really paid that much attention when he came Aboveground, he soon realized that there was not another living soul around them. This place she lived in was isolated, surrounded by dense woods on all sides. This place shimmered with a low level power, just visible to his Sight. It reminded him of an earlier time, in the years before the industrial revolution, when belief had fed the world of Underground and made it and its inhabitants strong. This power he sensed was nothing as opposed to what this mortal realm had possessed then but it was similar, just weaker. It was Sarah, and Sarah alone that generated this energy.

He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to stretch out. Touching the power that he had seen, feeling it, tasting it. There was nothing of the Unseelie in it. If was tinged with a sense of sadness, there was a longing of some kind that hovered within it, but thee was nothing evil about it. Opening his eyes, he came to several conclusions at once. 1) He'd wronged her. Nothing that lived in the bounds of these energies could do the things he'd accused her of. 2) She out of all the mortals he'd ever encountered had not lost belief, true dreams when she reached adulthood. 3) This power felt familiar. He had felt this same power infusing his Labyrinth and his Kingdome, speeding it's healing.

He definitely needed answers, but first he needed to feel normal again, at least somewhat. The energies here could not power his way back home. They were not strong enough for that. They could, however, be used to his benefit. He closed his eyes and reached into the energies around him, tapping them cautiously.

He felt the energy infuse him, filling the empty places that ached, rejuvenating him. He could almost feel his body start healing. He needed one other thing. He took some of this energy and formed it carefully in his hands, chanting softly. He uttered the release phrase and felt the shielding spell settle over his wile being. He breathed in deeply. The chill of the sword downstairs was no longer affecting him. He stood, stretching languorously. He felt a little more like himself.

Jareth re-entered the house and made his way carefully down the stairs. Picking up the blanket that he'd dropped earlier, he wrapped it around himself in the manner of a toga. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the bed. "Let's try this again," he said to the emptiness around him, "calmly this time."

"Sarah, wake up, Sarah." He leaned forward, whispering softly into her ear, bracing himself on either side of her body.

Sarah opened her eyes slowly, her breathing picking up as she realized that Jareth was leaning over her. She must have passed out. She schooled herself to calm. She had to control her emotions. Apparently without his shield, he could feel what she felt. If he'd been going to kill her, she'd have already been dead.

"Jareth."

Her eyes met his as she turned her head to face his voice. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with already, otherwise get the hell off of me." He chuckled softly as he sat back up, that was his Sarah, always pushing his patience. At least he wasn't getting any emotional residue from her. It had been his lack of shielding and not her before. For some reason, that made him happy.

Sarah pushed herself up into a more dignified position facing him. "As I said before, what are you doing up? You should be resting. You've had a rough 26 hours from what I can tell." He just shook his head. "I'll have answers first, and then, maybe, rest, Sarah."

She nodded. "Let me go get into some real clothes then. I'll be back in a moment." She pushed herself off the bed, moving past him. She paused just at the door, turning to look at his blanket clad form, her eyes making their way from his head to his feet. "I'll see what I can find for you as well."

He smiled as she closed her door. Had they actually managed to have a civil conversation with no raised voices?

She emerged from the room a few minutes later, her long dark hair pulled back into a pony tail, barefoot, in a pair of beat up jeans and a t-shirt that bore a dragon design. She tossed some clothes in his direction. "Feel free to change in my room. I think those should fit, or at least close enough." She continued through the door way to the room beyond. "Are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat."

"Yes," he said, his voice colored with confusion as he watched her walk away from him. "That would be nice. 

She'd changed on him again, from anger to kindness in the blink of an eye. She was a whirlwind of emotion. He had heard once that mortals were short lived because they burned out from their brightness. Having known Sarah, he could see the reality of the statement. He stood, then disappeared through her bed chambers doorway.

"Jareth, lunch is ready." She called to him as she sat his food on the dining table. She took her plate and a wine cooler and moved to the chair in the living room. She set the plate on the arm of the chair and took a long drink of the beverage before she started eating.

Jareth emerged from the bedroom slowly. The jeans he wore were at least two sizes to big, and the t-shirt hung loosely on his frame. His feet were bare. He walked from the room seeming a bit embarrassed about how he looked.

"Are those ok? I can try to find something else."

"They will be fine, Sarah, do not trouble yourself. Are you sure that the gentleman these belong to won't mind me wearing them?" He had stopped to look at her halfway between the table and the bedroom door. He had not even considered the idea that she had a man in her life before she had given him the clothes. This situation was wildly inappropriate.

"I'm sure Jareth. They were a friend of mine's clothes. He never bothered to come back for them when our relationship ended." Her eyes clouded for an instant. "Your lunch is getting cold. I know that hot dogs, canned baked beans and wine coolers are not that overwhelming, but they are edible." She gave him a small smile. He retuned it, turning back to the table. He moved the plate so that he could see her. While he thought she was trustworthy, he wasn't quite up to sitting with his back towards her.

Sarah watches as he bit tentatively into the hot dog and then seemed to nod, a sigh of relief echoing in her head. She wondered what was up with the change in attitude. She looked at the clock, rubbing her neck as she took another sip of the cooler. He'd gone from killing rage to civil in an hour and a half. Something was up. When she looked back at the table, she found him looking at her.

"Are you in pain?" Jareth had looked up just in time to see her rubbing her neck. Had he injured her earlier?

"Just a headache, I'm not used to so much activity." That was the understatement of the year. While she was not a complete couch potato, she didn't get a lot of physical activity, except the occasional walk through the woods here. She spent her time visiting Underground and writing her books.

Jareth nodded slowly as her mimicked her action and sipped from the bottle in front of him. The beverage was sweet with an alcoholic undertone, much like watered wine. He finished his lunch and moved to the living room to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Sarah finished her meal at about the same time and setting her plate on the floor she stood. "Let me fix that for you." She beckoned for him to stand and folded the bed back into the couch. She then pulled the cushions from behind it. Flipping them so that the blood wasn't on top, she put them back into the couch.

Jareth's eyes widened as he saw the couch cushions. "What happened to them?" He blurted before he could catch himself.

Sarah turned and looked at him, her eyes filled with emotion, though he wasn't quite sure what it was. "This is where I bandaged your wounds last night. The blood is yours. It was a scary few hours."

Their eyes met.

Jareth nodded slowly. It was no wonder he felt so drained. "I apologize for having frightened you , Sarah."

An awkward silence crept between them. It stretched for what seemed to be an age, but was truly only a few minutes. Sara broke the silence as she broke the eye contact.

"You wanted to talk." The bottle she was holding suddenly seemed very interesting.

Jareth looked at her. He almost felt the mood in the room physically change. The shutters came down around her. So that's how it was to be. Well, two could play at this game. He brought himself up and schooled his expression to its usual mask.

"Yes, we do need to talk. I want some answers." His words as he spoke were clipped and precise.

"How did I arrive here, Sarah?" His voice was cool as he spoke. He watched her expression shift through a dozen emotions. And then she raised her face to him, showing none of what he'd seen flicker across it.

"I brought you here." She whispered into the silence. "I don't know how, but I did." She looked away then, waiting for the explosion.

"Do you mind telling me why?" His cool voice lost its emotionlessness.

"He was going to kill you. I couldn't let him. I'm sorry, I brought you here, but I didn't know what else to do." The façade fell and tears welled in her eyes.

Jareth ignored the tears. "And exactly how did you know this, Sarah?"

If it had not been that he had far better hearing than a mortal, he'd have never heard her response. "I saw it, in my dream."

Jareth looked at her as if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightening. "A dream, you pulled me here because of a dream." He was losing what control he had.

Her tears dried and she shot him a look that could have killed. "Yes. I brought you here because of a dream. The dream was obviously right or you wouldn't have shown up like you did. I thought it was the right thing to do." With that she got up and walked to her bedroom and slammed the door.

Jareth was on his feet and at the door in moments. "Sarah, I'm not done talking to you. Come back out here immediately." Silence was his only reply.

Sarah lifted her window and carefully pulled out the screen. She pulled herself through the opening with effort, breathing heavily. She landed with a soft "thud" on the hard earth on the other side. Biting back a whimper of pain as she landed, she pushed herself up and began to walk. She could hear Jareth still at her door now, pounding on it.

Jareth brought his fist against the door again, his voice losing all pretense of calm. "Damn it, Sarah., open this door. I am past all patience with this childish outburst. Either you open it or I will." He started to turn the knob only to find it locked. "Fine, on your head be it." He raised his food and kicked the door in, ripping apart the door frame.

A chill breeze met him as he entered the room. The curtains at the open window swayed in the breeze. He could she her just as she reached the tree line surrounding her small yard. He shook his head. What was this woman's problem? Why was she so very difficult? Was it an impossibility for her to just once give him even the smallest amount of respect his title gave him the right to?

He slid through her window easily, landing on silent feet. He moved around the yard careful not to be seen and trying to judge the best way to go to get into the forest unseen. He moved like a cat, carefully stalking his prey. He never lost sight of her as she wound her way down what looked like a well used trail.

'He's out here right now and very angry with me,' one part of her mind said.

'Uh duh, that's why you are still out here trying to avoid him,' said another..

'Maybe I should just stop; a jaunt through the woods is not going to make him any happier with me.' The first replied.

'Go to the pond, that way it won't seem so much like you just gave up, but that you were going somewhere to be alone.'

Jareth watches as her pace slowed. It looked like she was talking to herself. She looked around, as if trying to get a bearing on where she was. Then, she changed direction.

He continued to follow Sarah until she reached a small pond with a wooden walkway leading out to the center. She walked out onto the walkway and dropped down onto the wooden planks. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms about her legs. She sat thus, staring into nothingness.

Jareth walked up behind her silently. Sarah could feel him, only a hand span away, his aura brushing her. While he was protected from his emotion by his shielding, she was not protected from him. She didn't feel what he felt, not unless he was either very emotional or he had no shields at all, but she could always feel him. She knew where he was at all times if she was where he was, in the dreams. It appeared that this effect had crossed over as well. She took a deep breath.

Jareth walked up the dock, stopping just behind Sarah. His anger faded as he watched her staring into space. She looked so incredibly fragile. He really looked at her for the first time since he had awakened. She was painfully thin. He could see the line of her collarbone against the shirt that she wore. Her waist was small enough that he could easily encircle it in his hands. Her face looked hollow somehow, yet strikingly beautiful. It was as if she had somehow been burning away all that was unnecessary and leaving just enough for her own survival. He swallowed, feeling an old emotion creep back into his chest. He wanted nothing more than to keep her from all harm at this very moment and he wanted to understand this woman before him, more than he'd ever wanted anything before.

She saw his hand come down to her out of the corner of her eye. "Come back inside, Sarah, the ground is too cold for you to be outside barefoot. You will catch a mortal sickness." She turned her head and looked up at him. Jareth's face showed nothing of his previous anger, there was a hint of something in his eyes that she couldn't identify. Sarah shrugged and then lifted her hand to his and he gently pulled her to feet. Then before she knew it was happening, he reached down and swept her off her feet, cradling her in his arms.

"I can still walk you know." Sarah said as she glared at him. Her heart was pounding at his proximity. She was closer to him at this moment than she had ever dreamed she would be. She had to get away from him. This was too close to him; she couldn't let him see how he affected her.

"Yes, but I can get us there faster. You've already spent too much time out in this chill." Jareth kept his voice carefully neutral. He could feel her ribs against his chest, the sharpness of her hip bones as they settled against his stomach. She was far to light for a woman of her height. She wouldn't even tip the scales at 100 pounds.

He set out at a fast pace that had them back at the house in minutes. 'Sarah, sweet Sarah, why do you persist in arguing with me?' he asked the question in his mind, not wanting to start another argument as he settled her onto her feet at the back door. She wrenched it open and walked into the kitchen trying to put some distance between them.

"Shall we try this again?" Jareth said breaking the silence that had lain between them. Sarah simply nodded. She moved through the kitchen stopping at the refrigerator to get another wine cooler, wishing that she had something more potent. He followed her; she lifted one of the coolers out of the fridge and offered it to him. He shook his head.

She shrugged, took hers out and twisted its cap off, drinking half of it in the first gulp. She went into the living room and reclaimed her vacated seat.

Once she settled back into her seat, he took his. Time to try a different angle. "Sarah, why do you have such a large cold iron weapon?" His head swiveled to the sword on the mantle piece. "Is there someone from the Fae realms that has been bothering you?"

Sarah smiled her spirits lifting a bit. She took another drink of her cooler and shook her head. "No, that sword had been in my grandmother's family for years, centuries even. They moved here from Scotland two generations ago. I don't know that it's even such a deal that it's made out of cold iron. They made swords at that time out of what they had, bog iron."

A look of pain flashed across her eyes. "My grandmother left it to me when she passed on last year she said she thought I would need it someday. Sort of funny since I can't even lift it." She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not all cold iron though, the hilt itself is silver. It's one of the oddest swords I've ever seen. The sheath for it is in my bedroom. Its lead lined."

Jareth looked away from her, startled by what she had said. If one took all that information and added it up, at some point a Fae had carried this sword. The silver hilt and the lead lined sheath would have been necessary for the weapon to have been used and handled. Apparently at some point in the past, Sarah's family had been protected at the very least by one of the Fae. He nodded slowly. Perhaps that's why Sarah had been able to defeat his labyrinth, her family was Fae touched.

"I see."

"Jareth, I'm sorry I brought you here, I was just so…." She was looking past him to the wall behind him.

"You apparently did what you thought best, Sarah. And in this case you were correct." Her eyes flashed back to his and locked. "I was in trouble and you brought me out of it. I thank you." Sarah's mouth dropped open.

"Sarah, tell me about your dreams." Jareth said, still looking at the stunned girl.

"Well, um. I…" She glanced at the clock. "Oh my, if I'm gonna get you something decent to wear, I'd best get to it, the stores around here close early on Sunday." She stood. "Do you have anything you'd prefer?"

Jareth looked at her steadily. "Yes. The information I asked for." His words were clipped; she could tell just by the tone of his voice he was angry. He thought for a couple minutes, maybe letting her out of his presence for a while would relax her and make her more willing to talk. "But if you feel it is necessary to go out and do this shopping go ahead. We will talk later. I will rest while you are gone."

Sarah nodded slowly and made her escape as quickly as she could.

* * *

Lady Daanna, adopted child to the House of Linnaie stretched as she woke, reveling in the feel of the silk sheets beneath her. She'd managed to sleep away a good portion of the day. She'd sent Gregori off earlier after making sure that he started the day started in the best possible way. She moved from the bed to the mirror over the dresser, and let the braid she'd slept in fall free. She was going to have to do some work on these rooms. Jareth had had an unnatural love for the color black. She felt completely refreshed, Gregori had been right to tell her to stay abed a while longer. The battle of Magicks that she'd had with Jareth prior to their entrance to the city had left her completely drained. Well, almost completely. What energy she'd had left had been completely taken in the victory celebration after.

Jareth. Her lips curled up as she let out a low growl. They were going to have to find him. Most likely he'd exhausted himself and been caught in the Space Between when he'd done his Vanishing. He would float in the mists for eternity. But it was better to be sure. She'd worked for too long, for him to come back to life. His house was the first to fall from Seelie hands in 300 years. From this vantage, there would be more to follow. The Labyrinth was ancient and powerful of itself. It had managed to go from broken to nearly fully healed after Jareth's defeat 6 years ago. The elders had said it would take centuries.

They had courted briefly, three years ago. It had been the most wonderful 6 months of her life. He'd attended her coming out party, to see how the child he'd taken had grown up. And then as quickly as the courtship started, it ended. The only explanation was that bitch, Sarah, damn her mortal soul. She could remember the conversation vividly.

_She had been visiting Jareth in his home. Jareth was holding a ball in honor of a friend of his' handfasting. She had wanted to wear something special. She'd found a ball dress in the back of the wardrobe of her room. Once she finished bathing, her servant had come to help her dress. 'Ah milady, you look as enchanting as young Miss Sarah did.' She had spun on the creature wrapping her hand around it's throat. 'Who is Sarah?' The little gnome's eyes had grown wide. 'She was just a mortal girl from Above. She ran the Labyrinth. She wore a dress quite similar to this one in a dream that Jareth gave her. He seemed to like it very much.' Danna had smiled. 'Really? Well then hopefully he will admire this one as much.' When she arrived at the ball she realized her mistake. Jareth's whole attitude toward her changed in an instant. It was an awful evening._

The next day, he escorted her home. They'd stood in her parent's garden when he'd told her of his decision. _His voice had been cold and distant as if he were speaking to one of his goblins. 'I am sorry Lady Daanna, I do not wish to hurt you, but I think it best that this relationship end. I will inform your parents of my decision, again, my apologies, my lady.' _He'd turned his back on her and walked away, not even glancing back, as she'd crumpled in the courtyard, broken hearted. He'd taken her innocence, not that she had minded. He'd taken her heart.

It was soon after that she had met Gregori. While it is true that the Unseelie and Seelie Courts do not regularly involve themselves with one another, there had been a celebration at one of the more neutral Fae's homes. Her parents had decided that she had to get out of the house and on with her life. They insisted that she should never have allowed herself to become as involved emotionally with The Goblin King until she had until she had surety that he returned her feelings. Gregori had shown an interest in her, she had responded to his interests. Soon they were courting, and within the year they were married. Within a year and a day she was no longer a member of the Seelie Court.

Gregori had had his own dealings with Jareth. But, it was Daanna's desire to see him dead that had pushed this invasion. Gregori would do anything to please his Lady, he had been too long alone. And besides, he reveled in battle, in blood, in death, this gave him the opportunity to get all of those and earn his Lady's favor one more time.

But yesterday, despite his words to the contrary, he had failed her. She had provided the Magicks he needed to see his troops safely inside the Goblin City. She had fed him power to drain and strip Jareth of his protections. Gregori had still permitted Jareth to escape.

She dressed carefully. Somehow, all of the servants here had managed to escape. Into the Labyrinth, no doubt. It was protecting them. Once she completed her preparations, she went to seek out her husband. They had to find the Goblin King and eliminate him. Otherwise, their victory would be for naught. The Seelie Court would hear of this soon enough and if they did not have proof of Jareth's death, it would be the armies of the High King himself they would be dealing with.

* * *

Jareth watched as she pulled from the driveway, making sure she was gone before allowing a stream of curses to flow from his lips. What the hell was her problem? What was so very difficult about what he wanted to know? He shook his head, still venting as he brought his fist down on the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath and began to count backwards from 100.

How could she do this to him? She could take him from one extreme to another within seconds. It was this along with countless other traits that drew him to her though. He had not realized how much he had wanted to see her until he woke up and found her lying on the floor yesterday. Damn the woman and her stubbornness! Damn him for letting his emotions rule him. She had already denied him once. There was no way in hell he would permit her to do so again.

If she was like the ladies of the Sidhe, this shopping would take hours. He could do as he said he would or he could try to dig up whatever he could about her life now. It appeared that she lived alone up here on this mountain, but apparently there was at least one village close enough for shopping.

He thought about it a moment. Forget rest, right now he needed knowledge. And the most likely place he would get that knowledge was her sleeping chamber. He made his way to her room and flipped on the light. While he'd been in here earlier, he hadn't really paid that much attention. He had simply changed clothes and left. It had a bathing chamber within it and a large closet. There were a couple of pieces of framed artwork on the walls, signed by a Michael Whelan. There was a shelf that ran the length of one wall, with figures and plaques. The figures were in packaging that had their names written upon it. He gazed upon the figures, with a bemused glint in his eyes.

One was Ludo, another was Hoggle, there was a Fiery, the seer with the bird on his head, and a pixie all lined up in a sort of haphazard way. Next to each was a book, encased in glass, with a metal plaque upon the base. Each read:

Young Reader's Award

Presented to Sarah Williams

They each bore a date as well. He Looked at each. They were all dusted with the same energies that he'd felt before. Then back behind all the others he found another. He looked at the miniature version of himself, shocked that she'd written about him. The book was entitled simply 'The Goblin King' The artwork on the cover showed him as he'd first appeared to Sarah, black cloak and armor, smugly superior.

He smiled to himself. She was writing books for children using her time Underground as a basis. Apparently, the books were well received. He reached out and gently lifted the dusty package containing his figure. There were some differences of course. But it had his mismatched eyes, his wild hair. The outfit a replica of the one on the cover of the book.

He leaned forward to read the plaque on 'his' book. It had been the first she wrote, if the date was an indication. He put down the figure and grasped the glass case that the book was in. It was hinged on the back with a simple closure holding the book in place. He unlatched it, and pulled the book out. He flipped it open.

The first page bore a simple message.

For Jareth

-To make the Labyrinth live again.

Sarah

He read the story quickly, flipping through the colorful pages. It told a simple story of who the Goblin King was and what the Goblin King did. It told the truth of him, but turned the tale around. The book was about him and him alone. She'd made him a hero, who saved children from truly evil lives. But the call had to be true, his aid absolutely necessary, otherwise he would not appear. She also seemed to have forgotten to tell them the right words. He laughed to himself as he looked at the shelf again. 

She was giving them a new life, a new hope. She was letting the mortal children know that these people and places were real. Only a few would grow up and still believe, but sometimes, it only took one.

He re-read the dedication. She had written it for him, had started all this for him and for the Labyrinth. Somehow she had known how far he'd fallen and with these books she had reached to pick him up. He shook his head. He put the book back into it's case an set it back on the shelf and then when to her closet.

The closet contained clothes and boxes. There were 3 racks for clothes only one was in use. There were some dresses, there, a couple of nice blouses, one or two suits. Sarah seemed not to own much she deemed worth hanging. There was nothing in this closet that might have belonged to a man.

He walked further into the closet and peered into a box that already had its lid laid aside. Inside there were some letters, two books, some ribbon a couple of cards. The contents of the box had the feeling of age, just a touch of the musty odor of misuse. He reached in pulled out the folded piece of paper that lay on top.

He unfolded it and read it aloud, his voice resonating in the enclosed space he sat within.

Sar-

I'm sorry to do this while your sleeping. I can't live like this. I'm leaving tonight. Someday, maybe you'll find the real world. If you do, look me up.

Mark

He raised an eyebrow, and put the letter back where he'd found it. He reached for another box. Her toys, from her room when she was young, filled it to the brim. He recognized them from his occasional flights by there. He lifted the lid from a third box. More toys. Nothing even remotely recent.

He walked back into the bedroom and closed the closet door. He walked over to her dresser. There was a single picture hanging on the mirror, trapped in between the glass and it's wood frame. It was Toby, not long after her visit to Underground. A string of colored beads hung on one corner of the mirror. A piece of chording hung from the other. There were two small boxes on the dresser. One held some cosmetics, the other a small selection of jewelry.

He moved over to the chest of drawers. Opening the drawers slowly, he found that all it held were art supplies. The drawers were filled with canvas, paints, chalk and sketch pads. Atop the chest was a small black box, he thought for a moment, a television, the mortals called it. It was small as opposed to what most mortals seemed to have.

Nothing in this room other than the books. 'Damn.'

Did she really have no one? There weren't any family pictures other than the one picture of Toby on the mirror. There was no sign that anyone besides her was here, or had been her for a very long time. He turned off the light in the room, standing with his arms crossed while he tried to decide where to look next.

He went into the living room and threw himself into the chair she normally sat in. Something black on the floor, caught his eye, just on the edge of his vision. He bent over the arm of the chair and reached beneath it, pulling a large bag from beneath the chair.

He opened it slowly and peered inside. He pulled out the pictures and story that lay inside. Her drawings were so amazingly real. He could almost see the real Didymus in front of him. Perhaps it was her time Underground that had given her such a gift. These drawings were beyond typical mortal ability.

It seemed her whole life revolved around these books she wrote. He put the pages back into the bag and pushed it back beneath the chair. For some reason, that thought saddened him. Sarah should be able to live happily, knowing only good things. She should have lived her wildest dreams. She should have been his.

He went back into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and pulled down a glass. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of water. He looked over the magnets hanging on it's door only to realize there was a picture hanging here as well. It was a small picture of a man and a woman done in black and white. They were an older couple, but they looked happy enough. Sarah looked much like this woman. Her grandmother, perhaps?

The sound of crunching gravel announced her return long before he saw the light of the truck. He'd told her he was going to rest. He drained the glass of water and went back to the living room. He stretched out on the couch covering himself with the blanket that still lay there. He closed his eyes, and awaited her return.

* * *

Sarah finished with her shopping far too soon. Wal-Mart was far too accommodating for her tastes. Fortunately, Jareth did not know that this particular Wal-Mart was open 24 hours. She got into line with her cart full of both groceries and clothing. She'd gone bought food the day before, but it wasn't meal food and definitely not enough for two. Ten minutes later she was on her way back home, driving slowly, trying to take as much time as possible, still thinking. Jareth had obviously gotten at least some of his shielding back up. That was good he wasn't aching at her at least. It also meant that she wasn't emoting at him.

The dreams, he wasn't going to let this conversation rest. Well, that was why she had stopped at the liquor store. If she was going to have to relive everything, by god she wasn't going to be sober.

She took a long swig from the bottle of whiskey and winced as it hit her empty stomach. Drinking and driving. She should be shot. He drove her to desperate measures even now. But, she would be home before the effects hit, she hoped.

She started feeling the effects just as she turned onto her own road home. The warm feeling coursing through her veins, a welcome one. She flipped a switch on the dashboard, as she geared down the truck for the long winding hill ahead. Four-wheel drive was essential.

She took another long drink from the bottle, after lifting it to her lips from between her legs. A mile to go, a mile til she had to face him with the truth of her wretched existence. Damn the man and his questions anyway.

She turned the radio up, forcing her thoughts from her mind. She simply sang with the song on the radio. The sun finished setting as she drove over the hill. Her actual driveway was just ahead. She pushed the remote on for the garage door just as she pulled in. Once the door opened, she slowly drove in.

Sarah brought the truck to a halt with a lurch, forgetting the clutch and killing the engine as she did so. She opened the truck door, remembering only after the fact to close the garage door. She stepped out of the truck, bracing herself with both hands as that first wonderful head rush came over her. She closed her eyes and smiled crookedly.

She leaned forward, and felt for the bed liner switch, afraid to open her eyes until the world stopped spinning. She caught it and pulled it up. She heard the bed liner unlatch with a click. She stood a couple more minutes, and just as she decided she could move safely, the song came on. It's first haunted chords mesmerizing her.

"I'm so tired of being here  
Suppressed by all of my childish fears"

Sarah's body started moving of it's own volition. The garage light blinked off, leaving her washed in the moonlight flooding in from the windows. The dance was slow, circling in a small pattern. She brought her arms up into the framing angles of a waltz, the hand that should have been holding her partner's hand was holding her bottle. She started singing softly, her voice blending easily with the girl on the radio.

Jareth lay in the dark as she drove her vehicle into the garage. He waited for her to join him in the house impatiently, so he could get the truth from her. But she never came in. The light from the garage blinked off.

Was she not coming in? He stood, shaking the blanket off of his body and started moving toward the door. Once he got there he tugged it open, readying to berate her for being so slow. He froze as he caught the sight before him, his words dying in his throat.

"When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears  
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears"

He could hear her voice blending softly with the singers voice. She looked almost Fae in the moonlight, the light washing out her skin and heightening the shadows that the angles of her body causes. She danced as if in a waltz, holding a half full bottle of some kind of beverage, just a little unsteady on her feet.

Jareth didn't mean to move, but he found himself in front of her, sliding the bottle from her grip and replacing it with his hand. He set the bottle in the back of the truck and then settled the other hand on her waist. Sarah's eyes never opened as he took his place beside her. 'Does she even know I'm here?' He asked himself. He could smell the alcohol on her breath as she breathed on his neck.

"You used to captivate me  
By your resonating light  
But now I'm bound  
By the life you left behind  
Your face, it haunts my once pleasant drams  
Your voice, it chased way, all the sanity in me"

Sarah felt the bottle be lifted from her, as Jareth brought himself into the circle of her arms. She refused to acknowledge his presence for fear he would vanish in a wisp of smoke. She'd spent six long years waiting to feel his hands on her body again. She wouldn't, couldn't, let the spell end just yet.

"I've tried so hard to tell myself your gone  
And though you're still with me, I've been alone all along"

Jareth lifted her hand to his lips as the last chord of the song drifted through the air. The song's ending broke the spell and Sarah opened her eyes. She met his green to mismatched blue and brown, questioning him, almost daring him to see the truth, as her eyes told him exactly how she felt about him.

She broke the contact between him after a few moments, moving to the truck bed and retrieving the bottle as well as a couple of bags. Jareth watched her motions, not quite full of fluid grace, carefully containing laughter that was rising in his chest.

His voice would have sounded stern, if it hadn't been for the ghost of humor that leaked through. "I said shopping. Since when do drink and shopping go hand in hand?" She looked back over her shoulder at him, giving him an impish grin. "The liquor came from a place I shop at frequently, thank you very much." She looked back ahead of her and made her way through the door. He looked into the back of the truck with a sigh, then reached in and picked up the last of the bags.

She came back out, and raised an eyebrow at the fact that he was helping bring in the groceries. She shrugged and then moved to the cab where the door was still open. She slid in, pushed the clutch and put the truck in the right gear. Then she set the brake as she turned off the key and slid it from the ignition. She shut the truck door and followed him into the house.

She put the groceries away in silence, moving by memory, through the darkened moonlit house. She feared that turning on a light would send this current lull in hostilities scurrying into the shadows. Thus, the only light that shown was the light in the refrigerator as it opened and closed when she put way the items that needed chilled.

Sarah gathered everything she'd bought for Jareth and put it into two bags. Picking them up she carried them and her now only half full bottle into the living room. She dropped the bags by the sofa as she walked by it and then moved across the room to her chair and settled down on the floor in front of it, leaning against it's base and seat. She took another long pull from the bottle as she watched him settle in front of her on the sofa.

Jareth watched as she put the goods she purchased away, staying silent as she worked. She seemed bent on not speaking, as if preparing herself for something undesirable. Finally she finished with her task and moved into the living room. He watched her slide down to the floor. He took a seat on the sofa, bringing his legs across it's length and twisted his torso so he could see her, his head resting on his hand.

"Wouldn't the chair have been more comfortable?" He asked her.

She shook her head. "You can't fall off the floor, Jareth." Her words were just slightly slurred, but her voice was very serious. Jareth could see a soft blush across her cheeks.

"Why did you do this?" He asked softly.

"Trust me, it's necessary." Sarah managed a tight smile as she responded.

"Why?"

"You want to talk, I need not to have to feel what I'm saying."

"Is it so bad?" Jareth responded, confused by the pain he was seeing in her eyes.

"Most likely, that will depend on your point of view."

Jareth slid his legs off the sofa and slid to the floor, mimicking her posture. He met her slightly unfocused eyes. It would probably be best to be down here where she was, so he could catch her when she fell prey to her drink.

"Tell me about your dreams, Sarah."


	3. Chapter 3

What Dreams May Come - Chap. 3

I do not own Jareth... or Sarah... or the Labyrinth. However Gregori and Daana are mine. :)

* * *

"Tell me about your dreams, Sarah."

Sarah closed her eyes, her mind drifting back across the years.

She took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "They started the night I left Underground. Something happened just before I left. I'm not sure how or why. I felt a burst of energy that seemed to envelope me and suddenly I could…" her voice cracked, " feel you. And then I was gone."

She paused for a long drink, trying to calm her nerves.

Jareth just watched her, trying his damnedest not to show any emotion. The last thing he wanted was for her to get angry or upset before he'd heard her tale.

Sarah licked her lips and then continued as she set the bottle back between her legs on the floor. "When I got back it was like nothing happened. We had our party. Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus and the rest left. I went to bed… and then the dreams began."

She laughed softly, yet cynically, to herself as she dropped her eyes down to the floor shaking her head. She brought her eyes back up to meet his, her voice took on a kind of monotonous drone, laced with a deep, aching pain.

"The first thing I see every night when I fall into dream is your face."

Jareth's eyes widened, unable to suppress his shock at her words. Sarah just nodded at his response.

"For two years, you and your life was all I saw every time I closed my gods be damned eyes."

Jareth sat frozen. What exactly was she saying? "Sarah..."

Sarah raised a hand, "Questions later, just let me get through this." She took a deep breath and continued.

"Gradually I leaned to move away from you, to go other places. I daresay I've been all over your Kingdom." She gave him a lopsided smile.

Jareth nodded slowly, that would explain some of the art in the room above.

And then her eyes grew distant. "By the time I turned 17, I lost the ability to call my friends. I'd been forced to grow up too fast, forced to be an adult while I was really still a kid. In desperation, I tried communicating with them in my dreams. It was hard at first, but eventually I came to be able to form a misty kind of me in Underground. I can talk to them, walk with them, but never touch them."

Jareth took a couple of mental notes as he inched forward slowly. She was close to falling apart. Even shielded he could feel her mental strain.

"I tried to fight them, the dreams. I have gone weeks with only three hours sleep a night. I have trained myself to stop dreaming, waking just a dream begins. I've spent whole weeks drunk to the point of passing out to avoid them."

"I tried to get on with life without Underground, dating, going to parties, doing anything except sleeping. But always, just as I thought I'd won, I'd have to lay down. I'd be so completely exhausted and against every fighting fiber of my body, my eyes would drop closed. And there I'd be, in Underground, with you one more time." That last was said with a note of despair.

"Finally, I couldn't just watch anymore. Granny brought me here just before I turned 17. You were rebuilding, trying to get your life back together. I watched you night after night." She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and took another swig from the bottle.

"I couldn't just watch anymore." She repeated, her voice lowering to a whisper. "I decided to help. So I gave myself completely to the dreams. Every night, you're the first thing I see. I've entered dreams at balls, in your chambers as you made love to different women, as you've sat on your throne watching through a crystal as someone runs the Labyrinth. I see all manner of people and places. I've spent hours with Didymus, Ludo and Hoggle. They've shown me more of your world than you'd believe. I take what I learn from the dreams and use it in my books."

She paused again, squinting at him where he sat across from her. Was it her imagination or had he moved closer.

She smiled a trembling smile. "I was surprised when the first one was so successful, but happy. Its odd, but at the signings for the books, I seem to feed off the children's energy. I come home so full of life, so energetic. When I go to sleep, I pour all of that energy into the Labyrinth to help it heal."

Jareth nodded slowly.

She'd been there with him for six years, watching and helping him. She hadn't left him. She'd never left him. But, he'd left her. She'd watched as he'd lived his life, as he'd attempted time and time again to replace her in his heart. He'd never felt so at odds with himself as he did at this moment. He raised his eyes to find hers looking at him intently. The tears she'd been holding back starting to fall.

"I don't understand, I thought I'd won. But I didn't. I lost… everything. Toby doesn't know I exist. Every dream I've ever had was displaced by this need to fix what I broke. I have nothing. No life, no family, no dreams of my own. My only worth comes from helping a world that no one else believes in thrive. I am nothing more than an illusion anymore. I'm stuck here. My life is there."

"I dream for sometimes 20 hours a day. When I'm not sleeping, I'm working on the next book, trying to give each drawing that extra something that brings the story to life. I don't eat more than one meal a day. I'm a borderline alcoholic. I have nothing more than the next dream to live for. " She broke down completely.

Jareth closed the distance between them, giving in to the part of himself that wanted to hold her and protect her. He pulled her into his arms slowly, giving her the time to pull away if she chose to do so. "Sarah, sweet Sarah. Come now… sssshhhhh, you'll make yourself sick." He drew her across his legs cradling her against his chest. While he'd been able to sense that she was distressed earlier, now he could fully feel what she was feeling. He would never have believed that his Sarah could be so heartbroken and lost.

"Sarah, if you learned to communicate, why didn't you talk to me as well. Maybe…somehow.. we could have…"

He let his words trail off, his voice full of unspoken emotion, not even sure of what he wanted to say. Was it we could have stopped the dreams, or we could have found one another again.?

"I almost did once. You were in your study when I came in that night." She sniffled, her voice shaking as she spoke.

"I walked over to where you stood at the window overlooking the Labyrinth. I looked over your shoulder to see what you were watching so intently." She sighed. "You were looking at me, as I slept in one of you're crystals. Just as I started pulling together my mist form, you threw the crystal against the wall, with a violence I've only seen from you a handful of times over the years. I woke up screaming."

She attempted to push off him, knowing that he was most likely only comforting her because it's what a gentleman does for a lady, not because he wanted to, but to her surprise he resisted her. She gave in, reveling in the sensation of his arms around her and not caring at this moment what he would think of her in the morning.

"By the time I settled down enough to get back to sleep, you'd managed to find a bed partner."

She looked up at him. "I want you to know that I don't spy on you. I barely spend any time at all around you other than that initial appearing I do wherever you are. Knowing that you hate me that much, even though I can't blame you for that, I just can't…" He never found out what it was she couldn't do. She cried into his chest for several long minutes, and then she spoke again.

"I have tried to end this entire charade."

She raised an arm, pulling the shirt's sleeve up over her elbow, to the moonlight pouring through the window, knowing he'd be able to see clearly what she could only barely see in the light. Jareth cringed as he looked at her arm and the pair of jagged scars going from wrist to elbow. One of the pair was old, it's line thin. The other though, was recent, no more than a few months old if he were to judge.

"I tried to leave this wretched life of mine twice, once when I was 16, the second time not so long ago. When I woke up, the wounds were healed. I guess it doesn't matter if my life means anything; your Labyrinth won't let me die. It's going to punish me for as long as it can."

The tears returned. Sarah was too far gone to care. All that she knew was that for the first time ever she was able to tell one person the whole truth and that person wasn't pushing her away or calling her crazy or walking out the door.

Jareth felt her go limp in his arms, the terrible torrent of tears came to an abrupt halt as he ran a hand soothingly through her hair. He pulled her tighter to him, staring at the white lines on her forearm that seemed to stand out in silent accusation.

He'd listened to her story, his heart aching as she told it. She'd been so close to him all this time, yet he'd never known. Through the violence of one careless act, he'd pushed her away, never knowing she'd been there to push.

He thought back over the years since her visit to Underground. Though they only numbered six years, it seemed they'd been the longest in his long life. He pulled her closer to him still, burying his face in her hair. How had he missed her in his realm? Long forgotten coincidences he'd dismissed and conversations he'd over heard between her three comrades came to him, finally making sense.

There'd been a rumor among the inhabitants of the Labyrinth about her. He'd heard from a variety of creatures that while she'd defeated the Labyrinth, she'd lost her soul. She'd been seen regularly in the labyrinth in her mist form it would seem. He'd never believed the rumors. He had thought at the time that his people were creating stories to make her victory hollow, especially once the Labyrinth had begun healing.

He shook his head as he slowly stood, lifting her with his ascent. He'd have to make the Labyrinth release her when he got back. She had more than earned her freedom from a world she'd given too much for.

He walked to her room and laid her gently down on the bed, leaning over her as he brushed a few stray hairs from her face. Yes, he'd have to have the Labyrinth let her go. It was only right. But, why then, did it hurt so much?

He brushed a soft kiss across her forehead, knowing that she'd never know he'd done it and walked back out the door closing it tightly behind him.

* * *

Gregori watched as Daanna inscribed the complex lines of the runes, glowing dimly in his vision, over the bloodstains where Jareth had fallen. She wore a look of intense concentration, her full lips moving slightly as the spoke the words of the Tracing spell she was casting. There was a bright flare of light as she set the spell loose, its web-like strands pulsing with a light that would be visible even to an untalented mortal.

Gregori's eyes moved to the scrying bowl that sat in the center of the circle. He watched as the strands filtered through their world into the space between. With luck, they'd find Jareth there, his corpse floating in the mists.

The strands moved through the mists seeking, searching, almost frantic in their pace, and then as suddenly as they had started their quest they stopped, as if bouncing off a wall. They'd come to the edge of the Mortal Realm. He looked at Daanna knowing she had not put enough power behind the spell to break through the wall that separated them from the Mortals.

Daanna raised her eyes to him, nodding slowly, knowing that he knew what she needed. She Reached for him with both a hand and her magick. He gave her his own and readied himself.

It started slowly at first, just a trickle of his own energies being put behind the spell and then she opened the channel wider. There was a long moment where he felt as if he were being forced through a sieve and then the tension broke and the strands moved on still seeking their prey.

He heard Daanna's gasp as Jareth came into view standing shrouded in darkness in a forest. He wore bandages over the parts of his body that were visible, their stark whiteness visible against the gloom surrounding him. Apparently, his wounds had been tended. He was alive, damn the man! Daanna started chanting again, this time more loudly, setting a Marker on Jareth's location.

Gregori's eyes widened as he watched Jareth tense through the bowl as the last words of Daanna's spell were spoken and the spell was loosed. Jareth looked around as if warned by something where he was. He should not have felt anything. For the first time, he began to wonder if possibly they had underestimated the Goblin King.

Daanna ended the Tracing spell once the Marking spell had been laid and Jareth had gone back to staring across the waters of the pond he stood at, resuming his thoughts on whatever he had been thinking. She narrowed her eyes at his form just as she picked up the scrying bowl and ran a finger over it's runes to deactivate it. While she was a bit worried about the Goblin King's seeming good health, she knew that they could deal with that easily now that he'd been found.

Daanna turned to Gregori, once the last spell had been broken. She lifted her hands and he took them, pulling her up to her feet gently. Once she was fully on her feet, she raised her eyes to his. Gregori smiled at the cross of anger and wicked humor that he saw within their depths.

"Call the Wild Hunt, my Lord. Both he and the mortal that is aiding him will be dealt with. The Gods are on our side in this. Tomorrow night the wall between our worlds will be near non existent. All Hallows eve in the Mortal Realms will give us victory."

Daanna smiled at Gregori, the wickedness implicit in that smile, heating his blood. Daanna circled his neck with her arms, tugging him toward her and taking his lips in a deep passionate kiss. When the two parted, she spoke again. "The very thought of what the Hunt will do to them excites me." Her eyes darkened as she spoke, her eyes focusing on his lips. "Their pain invigorates me." Daanna drew Gregori to her again, this time her kiss rougher, more heated. "I want you my love, here, now, on the place where Jareth's blood will lie beneath us." She lifted a hand from behind him, and drew her fingernails down his neck, just scraping the surface and then tiptoed up to lick the blood that she'd brought to the surface.

Gregori didn't hesitate as he lifted her off her feet and then knelt laying her with care on the stone of the blood colored floor. He answered her kiss with one of his own, reveling in the harsh passion that the feel of his skin being broken by her nails brought him. He ripped open the bodice of her dress. Daanna moaned loudly. "That's it beloved, make me feel," she whispered to him. "Make me feel alive."

She closed her eyes and spoke three words under her breath. She could feel the energies being brought about from their passions already starting to pool into her reserves. While she did enjoy Gregori's attentions, she had no intention of letting the fruits of their mating go unused. It was then that Gregori's finger tips found her inner lips and she could think of nothing but him.


End file.
